


I Turn My Camera On

by lady_ragnell



Series: Prompt Reposts [18]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Nude Photos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is at a particularly appalling political party when he gets a very unexpected text from a wrong number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Turn My Camera On

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a prompt on Tumblr and posted [here](http://theladyragnell.tumblr.com/post/112172272653/hey-i-dont-know-if-youre-still-taking-prompts). The title is from the song of the same name by Spoon, because I couldn't resist.

Enjolras is, as he always is at this kind of thing, both incredibly bored and angry. If he overhears one more conversation about “the damn immigrants” he's going to throw his non-alcoholic drink in someone's face, and his parents should know by now that it's a bad idea to send him to these things because he's done it before. Maybe the sixth time is the charm.

When his phone buzzes, he assumes it's either encouragement from Combeferre or Courfeyrac or more threats from his parents to stop paying for his political science degree if he stops engaging in (their) politics, which is why he's surprised to find a text from a strange number that reads _These had better be adequate, I can't get better lighting without help_ , followed by three picture texts that—

Enjolras slams his phone against his chest and knows he's no doubt gone pink. “Sorry,” he says to the woman talking to him about something appalling he tuned out of three minutes ago. “From my cousin, some pictures of the new baby. You'll excuse me for a minute?”

He practically runs away before she's done more than nod and ducks into a corner to look at the pictures again and figure out how the hell to respond. He's never received pictures of someone else's naked body on his phone before, much less from a stranger and introduced so matter-of-factly. Whoever it is, he's broad-shouldered, built like a wrestler, with a bruise spreading across one side and a few scattered scars, and Enjolras stares for longer than he would care to admit before he finally manages to formulate a text back. _You have the wrong number, but the lighting seems fine to me_.

There's only a pause of a minute before he gets a response. _Flor this is NOT FUNNY_.

_I don't know who she is but I'm not her._

Almost no pause at all this time. _Fuck I am so sorry please don't track me down and file a harassment complaint or something_.

_I wouldn't, it's an accident, and you've made my night much more interesting than it was_. And then, on a whim, because he's not who he has to be tonight and he wants to do something to prove it, _It's not like it's a bad view_.

His phone rings a second later, and Enjolras, bemused, picks it up. “Do you call everyone you accidentally send pictures of yourself to?”

“Oh thank God, you're not a seventy-year-old grandmother.”

“That was your worst-case scenario?”

“Actually, my worst case scenario was _my_ seventy-year-old grandmother, but I wasn't even entertaining that possibility because I know her number. Unless she's leading a secret double life.” Whoever he is, he's got a warm, rough voice, and he sounds like he's having fun. It makes Enjolras want to lean into the phone and be there with him, which isn't an impulse he can say he's had about a stranger before. “But I also wanted to apologize, because that was a really creepy move, but I've got a friend working on a sculpture and ours not to reason why, ours but to do and to die.”

“And you got her number wrong.”

“New phone, I thought I had it memorized but I forgot she got a new number sometime while I had my last one.” He clears his throat. “As you may have noticed, the camera on this one is much better than the camera on my old one.”

“I don't have any basis for comparison, but the resolution is good.” Enjolras looks out at the party and winces. He has at least an hour more of this before he can leave, and he would love to spend it all in the corner talking to a stranger on his phone, but he shouldn't. “I would reply in kind, but unfortunately I'm in public right now.”

He laughs, loud enough that a member of the catering staff nearby gives Enjolras an odd look. “Naughty! I'll send you back to whatever you were doing, then, and dream of getting intimate photographs.”

Enjolras has never considered sending nude photographs to anyone else—his parents ingrained it in him young that it's just not something people do, not unless they want to be embroiled in scandal—but he thinks about it now. “I'll consider it,” he says, and hangs up.

Five minutes later, when he's gritting his teeth through another conversation, he gets a text of a man's face, scruffy and smiling hopefully as he holds up a hastily-scribbled sign reading _I'm Grantaire_.

Enjolras grins and saves the picture for later and goes back to talking about education funding with someone who actually manages to be against it. And if he gets in an argument this time that will get back to his parents, he doesn't mind too much about the consequences. He has something else on his mind.


End file.
